


M.M

by ronans



Series: Shameless Soulmates [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2014-10-05
Packaged: 2018-02-20 01:52:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2410616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ronans/pseuds/ronans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For as long as he can remember, Ian's never been alone.<br/>In a world where your soulmate grows up with you as a product of your subconscious, an imaginary friend, if you will, until you actually meet them, Ian Gallagher only really knows two things: his soulmate's a dude and is the not-so-proud owner of the initials M.M.<br/>Ian thinks he knows his soulmate, but he also understands he's going to have to start all over again when he meets the actual person he's set to spend the rest of his romantic life with, his mind's projection of perfection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	M.M

**Author's Note:**

> I'm thinking of making this into a series where I'd do one fic for each of the other Gallaghers (possibly Mandy and Mickey too) getting their soulmates, what do you think? Or maybe just expand on this or something.  
> Also, for anyone following my other fics, I'm so sorry for not updating but my laptop's broken and I can only write updates on my phone. Plus I've got half written chapters on my laptop so I don't really want to start writing the chapters again. I should be back to regular updates by the start of November.

‘Hey, Gallagher?’

He can’t actually tell what his voice sounds like. It’s weird because he talks to him, but it’s like the sound of that voice in your head. It just _is_.

Ian smiles and looks up from his sketch. ‘Yeah?’

‘You, uh, you drawin’ me?’

He laughs lightly and fiddles with the corner of the page.

‘Yup. Is that a problem?’ M smiles softly and Ian can see the sadness in his expression. Ian’s face drops. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Don’t…’ M pauses. ‘Don’t get too hung up on this, okay?’

Ian’s brow creases and he lets go of the paper. It’s all creased from him worrying it between his fingers. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Real me’s not gonna know anything about you, alright? I’m gonna just fucking disappear, He won’t know you. All the shit we’ve been through won’t be a part of His life.’

Ian bites his lip and nods at the reality check. He finds it a little unnerving that an imaginary person has a firmer grip on the process than he does. ‘Yeah,’ he whispers in reply and watches as M pushes away from where he’d been leaning against the desk and goes to sit on Ian’s bed. He studies the translucent figure for a moment, suddenly feeling a crushing sense of despair towards him. ‘M?’

‘Hm?’

‘How do _you_ feel about all this?’

He looks a little taken-a-back by the question. ‘What?’

‘How do you feel about me meeting Him? Are you… are you scared?’

M’s face crumples and Ian just feels worse. M’s not real, he has to remind himself, but he can’t help thinking that it’s got to be shitty being a figment of someone’s imagination until they meet the real you and then just ceasing to exist.

M doesn’t answer, just starts biting at his nails. Ian lets out a small gasp as letters begin to blossom across his friend’s knuckles. ‘M!’

‘Huh? Ow! Fuck!’ he hisses, drawing his hands away from his mouth and fanning his fingers out in front of him, eyes flicking over them. He winces each time a new letter manifests itself on a knuckle.

‘Fuck… U… Up,’ M reads out confusedly. ‘Jesus Christ who the fuck _am_ I?’

Ian can’t help it, he lets out a small chuckle which soon peters out into a longing sigh. ‘So He’s getting tattooed right now?’

M nibbles on his bottom lip and looks at the raised, reddened flesh on his knuckles. ‘Well it’s done now, but… yeah, I guess.’

‘My soulmate?’ He murmurs it under his breath like it’d be a curse to say it out loud.

M inclines his head absently and runs his thumb tenderly over the lettering. ‘The real deal.’ He lets out a humourless chuckle and then suddenly throws himself back onto Ian’s covers. Ian can see right through him to the turquoise colour of the sheets. He tries to trample the excitement that’s built itself up inside him because he feels bad for the man on the bed. But… _his soulmate_. In the flesh, the guy he’s going to be with for the rest of his life once he finds him.

‘I’m technically still you, I know what’s going on in your fuckin’ head,’ M grunts from across the room. Ian gulps and stares down at the desk in shame. ‘You don’t have to feel bad about it, man. It is what it is. You’ll meet Him and He’ll be real.’

‘But where does that leave you?’

‘Fuck,’ M breathes out before sitting up. ‘I don’t fucking know! This is shit, okay? Complete shit, man, but… it is what it is,’ he repeats, rubbing his lip with his hand. ‘Your guy’s goin’ through the exact same bullshit.’

‘Yeah,’ Ian mutters, scratching the back of his neck.

‘I mean, damn, Gallagher, there’s another one of you moping around feeling as sorry for his own imaginary ass as I do. Just gotta fucking deal with it.’

In spite of the situation, Ian finds himself smiling. ‘I hope Actual M’s like you.’

M snorts and then lies back down on the bed. ‘I hope for your sake He fucking is. You ain’t gonna get better than this.’

Ian opens his mouth to reply but at that moment Carl bursts in to rummage under his mattress for something Ian doesn’t even want to think about. The moment’s passed.

*

It’s about two weeks after Ian’s seventeenth birthday when he feels something’s… _off_. He can see that M feels it too and he thinks that maybe it’s the day. The day when he meets Him.

‘Kinda wish I was enough, you know?’ he hears M mumble from his place next to him on the bed. The morning sunlight passes right through his body and warms the place where he lies. It’s almost like he’s actually there.

‘Hm,’ Ian hums in agreement, reaching out his smallest fingers to brush M’s hand. They go right through but he sees M smile slightly and that’s enough. ‘I think… I wish…’ Ian can’t finish the sentence. His mind’s racing, thinking about why the day feels so different, wanting to stave off what it means.

‘I know.’

‘Yeah.’

They’re silent for a little while until they hear Carl start to stir on Lip’s old bed. They pick up the tiny whispers of him talking to his own soulmate, B, so Ian figures he can still speak to M without Carl minding too much about the noise.

‘I feel kinda bad for the guy,’ M says before Ian can start up the conversation himself.

‘Oh yeah? Is it ‘cause He’s gonna have to put up with my shit for the rest of His life?’

M smirks and nudges Ian but he doesn’t feel it. ‘No, jackass. I was thinking about how much of a whore you’ve been the last couple’a years. What if He’s, like, super Christian?’

Ian winces. Yeah, hooking up with guys had been pretty awkward in that M had had to be there the entire time. Didn’t mean Ian didn’t still do it, though. ‘Fuck off,’ he chuckles. ‘There’s no way He’d be a hardcore Christian, He’s supposed to be you, right? Plus, look at those tattoos.’

‘Yeah, whatever. Just warning you.’

Ian bites his lip through a grin. He decides to get up out of bed and get dressed, ignoring the bittersweet feeling coursing through his body.

*

He doesn’t know what he expected. It’s M. But… not M. He’s got M’s dark, slicked back hair and amazing crystal clear blue eyes but he’s _real_ and looks like he’s freaking the fuck out. He’s gripping at the air, much like Ian is, probably reaching out for fake-Ian.

They mirror each other as they both unexpectedly double over in pain. It’s fucking awful and the most intense feeling Ian’s ever felt. He could be dying, he doesn’t know. He’s never felt this much sheer _loss_ and longing at the same time. It’s so much that they both crumple to the floor, holding their stomachs so tightly that anyone passing would think they’d been cut open and were trying to hold in their organs.

‘Fuck,’ is the first thing he hears. And Ian can _finally_ place the voice he didn’t know he’d been hearing since he himself could talk.

‘Shit,’ Ian replies, somehow laughing through the nearing on unbearable mental pain. He can hear Him laughing too and they’re both collapsed on the pavement fucking screaming manically with amusement.

And suddenly the pain’s gone and Ian can just feel that M’s not there anymore. It’s a pretty numb feeling but Ian thinks he dealt with all the grief already in one excruciating go.

He can hear his soulmate panting next to him on the tarmac and it’s the best sound he’s ever heard.

‘Ian,’ he forces out, still wrapping his arms tightly around his own middle.

‘Mickey.’

 _Mickey_. 

Ian extracts an arm from his own weird tangle of limbs and stretches it out across the pavement towards Mickey. Their fingers slot together perfectly.


End file.
